


Missing You

by tisfan



Series: MCU Drabbles [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ficlets, M/M, finding what is lost, under 500 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9480347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan





	

“It’s not like I missed you or anything.”

It wasn’t at all like missing him. Missing was what you did when someone was on a business trip and you could skype in the evenings, or even just text a few times a day. Missing was… wistful. And nice, a safe, brief sort of ache that sometimes grew into almost pain.

Clint had thought Phil was _dead_. That wasn’t _missing_ someone. That was arterial bleeding. That was torture levels of pain.

“Not that I don’t take your complaint seriously,” Phil said, pressing the heel of his hand against the door, “but I really need a place to hide.” He held out his other hand, red and dripping with blood.

Clint raised his eyes to the sky. Someone up there really, really hated him. “Come in, idiot,” he said. At least Phil hadn’t left a bloody handprint on the door, but Clint was going to have to hose down his stairs. “Did anyone see you?”

“Probably,” Phil said, staggering into Clint’s rather messy apartment, dodging pizza boxes and pizza dog with skill, as if he’d been doing it for years. Once, a long time ago, that had been true. “It was an ugly get-away.”

Which was Coulson’s way of saying he’d never have come to Clint at all, if things hadn’t been beyond desperate. That hurt almost more than thinking Coulson was dead in the first place.

Clint dug around under the sink and came out with the specialty kit that Banner had put together for him -- Clint’s First Aid was written in bright purple letters across the top. “Here. I’ll go get rid of your tail. Stitch yourself up,” Clint paused, then added, “Asshole.”

“Love you, too, Clint,” Phil said, opening the kit and laying out supplies in a neat row, efficient and organized as he always was.

Clint glared. “You don’t get to say that,” he snarled. “Not right now.” He grabbed his bow and headed out to kick some ass.

Later. Later Phil could tell Clint that he was loved. But first, he was going to need to explain how this had happened, why Phil had let it happen, and whether or not Phil was going to pull another disappearing act.

If those things all passed muster, maybe -- Clint put an arrow into a man with a gun holding a sniper’s position on the roof of the building opposite -- MAYBE Clint would allow an ‘I love you.’


End file.
